


The necessity of pursuing happiness

by slugmutt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, really just random fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:09:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugmutt/pseuds/slugmutt
Summary: Rey has a whole list of reasons not to sleep with Ben Solo.But when he takes off his shirt, they sometimes get hard to remember.





	The necessity of pursuing happiness

If there was one man on earth who Rey Kanata would never, ever sleep with, it was Ben Solo.

Why? Ugh. Where to start?

First of all, there was his name. Not ‘Ben Solo’ – his _other_ name.

If Rey had suddenly decided to start calling herself ‘Leylo Nen,’ her friends would have laughed themselves senseless. OK, to be fair, Rose might have actually gone along with it. But Poe would have mocked her until the end of time. And rightly so.

But Ben decides he wants everyone to call him Kylo Ren, and at the next game, all of his fans – so, basically the entire school – are chanting ‘Ren, Ren’ as if they hadn’t been calling him ‘Solo’ the week before. As if reality itself bends to Ben’s – sorry, _Kylo’s –_ will.

Which brings her to the second reason: that he’s a psycho who thinks he can rule over campus like some sort of tyrant. Or maybe a dark god.

It was bad enough when she thought he was just another student athlete with an ego problem. Then they had a class together and she discovered that he literally thinks dictatorships are a good thing, and the world should be united under his rule.

And _then_ he had the nerve to suggest there was something wrong with her for thinking otherwise.

Which, OK, maybe she shouldn’t have expected her one political science course (fucking distribution requirements) to be easy. But come on, it was a course called Democracy and Dictatorship. Democracy = good, dictatorship = bad. Everyone knows that.

Everyone, apparently, except for Ben. When she shared her democracy = good theory in class – a theory which, again, literally every sane person agreed with - Ben had looked at her as if he couldn’t believe someone so stupid had dared to breath air in his presence.

And the scary thing was, he had actual arguments to back up his (psychotic) point of view. When he talked about why democracy was dangerous, why the world needed a single, strong leader, it sounded almost convincing.

She’d found herself at the library at 1 am, reading Locke and Hume, trying to find new arguments to explain why the galaxy would not be better off under the iron boot of Kylo’s rule. Because apparently that was something that needed explaining.

And on that note, reason the third? His massive, massive ego.

The way he walks around with his abs on show, casually, as if he just happens to be topless, like, by accident. It could not be more obvious he just loves watching people drool over him. He must own a shirt. Everyone owns a shirt.

The way he acts like being good at basketball makes him special, lifts him above the rest of humanity. He’s probably not even that talented. He’s just so massive that the other team can’t see around him to score.

The way he thinks he’s the only truly smart person in school. Rey can still remember the way he cornered her in class one day, the look of incredulity on his face as he asked – demanded – to know how her grade was suddenly so high. As if he were a prince, and she was some poor scavenger who had dared to get in His Majesty’s way.

The truth was, her grade was high because he had set the bar high, and she’d risen to meet it. But she could hardly admit that.

Instead, she’d said nothing. She still remembered – and enjoyed – the look of frustration on his face as she’d left.

Of course, it was natural that his ego was so large, with the way everyone around him treated him like the most important person in the universe. Which, yeah. Reason four? The gang of creepy, awful people he calls friends.

Hux, for example. Rey feels like she needs a shower every time she so much as hears him talk. He looks at her like she’s a piece of dog shit stuck to his shoe, and talks as if the entire world is beneath him. If Kylo ever does take over the world, Hux will be at his side, gleefully exterminating his enemies – and maybe a few million other people, just for fun.

And even Hux is better than Coach Snoke. She’s not sure Snoke is even human. Unlike Hux, he looks fascinated with her, in a way that makes her feel dirty down to the very bone. He looks at her like he’s not sure whether he wants to fuck her or dissect her, and she’s honestly not sure which of those things would be worse.

Ben thinks Snoke is just amazing. The sadistic coach has him wrapped around his finger; just thinking about it makes her want to cry.

So yeah. Rey is absolutely, positively, never going to sleep with Ben Solo.

Again. She's never going to sleep with him _again_.

The figure next to her stirs, turns over, and throws one massive arm over her stomach. “Morning, babe” a sleepy voice says.

OK, maybe there are a few – just a few – reasons why a sane person might want to sleep with Ben Solo. In theory.

That voice, for example. So low, so smooth, but with a hint of a growl that can make anything sexy. Even arguing over fucking Tocqueville, as Rey can testify.

The hand on her waist starts moving upward, skimming along her ribcage, and Rey sucks in a breath.

His hands are pretty amazing, too. His fingers are – well, he’s good with his fingers. And she can’t help liking the way his hands cover her, each one big enough to span half her ribcage.

He raises his sleep-tousled head, and smiles at her.

Another reason? That smile. He walks around like an angry young god, but when he smiles, it’s so sweet and happy and pure that she can’t help smiling back. And maybe ripping off his shirt, if it’s one of the days that he’s wearing one.

It was his smile that was her downfall, in the end. As long as they had been arguing, she had been fine. Albeit for a definition of “fine” that included sitting awake with her arch-rival at two in the morning, arguing furiously in low voices over whether the UN was the flawed beginning of a global cooperative (Rey), or a pit of vipers that should be bombed out of existence (Ben). And maybe, occasionally, remembering what he looked like with his shirt off. Because come on, she’s only human.

But she could control herself.

Until he smiled. That fucking smile of his, that makes him look carefree and mischievous and all of the things he usually isn’t, but maybe could be, if he’d let himself. That smile that always seems to be just for her, as if being with her is all he needs to be happy.

A minute later, she’d been horizontal on the bed, with Ben on top of her, kissing him as if her life depended on it. (Yes, they’d been in his dorm room. In retrospect, that should have been a warning sign).

Which brings her to reason number four – Ben is actually really amazing at kissing.

Even as she’d given in and let her lips find his, she’d been expecting disappointment on some level. A man like that – a sports god with an ego problem – was the kind to jam his tongue down your throat like he couldn’t be bothered to wait; was the kind to take what he wanted without knowing or caring what his partner was feeling, as long as she was willing to lay back and let him.

But it turns out that Ben isn’t like that. At all. He’d kissed her gently, slowly, as if he were a worshipper half-afraid to come closer. It had been her who had pressed forward, needing more. And he’d given it to her; but he’d taken his time, mapping her body with his hands, driving her wild with need before finally, finally giving her release.

It was so good that she couldn’t bring herself to regret it, even as she knew she’d made a mistake. Even as she’d been sure that the next day, Hux would know everything and be more insufferable than ever; and Ben would have moved on to the next woman stupid enough to fall for his dark eyes and sexy voice and shy smile.

But it turns out Ben isn’t like that. At all. Which brings her to reason number five: Ben Solo is an amazing boyfriend.

Not that he’s her boyfriend. He’s just… a guy. Who she sometimes ends up sleeping with, because she is weak, and only human. And who she sometimes ends up staying awake with for hours, talking about anything and everything, even his parents and her lack of parents and the constant pressure they’re both under. All of the things she can’t tell anyone. Or couldn’t, until Ben.

It’s not like they’re _together_.

But when he does find a girlfriend, he’s going to treat her right. Because it turns out Ben’s not really into the whole groupie thing. It turns out he doesn’t sleep with a different girl every week. Or even every year. And he would never, ever tell Hux about a woman he actually likes.

It turns out he’s the kind of guy who brings her dinner when she’s stuck in the lab trying to figure out why her robot isn’t behaving, who takes her calls any time of day or night, and who holds her and tells her funny stories when she’s sad.

It turns out he’s a hell of a lot more shy, a hell of a lot less certain, than she ever would have guessed.

His eyes are uncertain now, as they take in her expression. “You look so serious,” he says.

Rey sighs. “We shouldn’t do this,” she answers.

She can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Not this again. It’s too early,” he whines.

“We’re just so different,” she says. “We’re from different worlds, and we have different goals, and different friends, and – and you want to be a dictator.”

He growls. Actually growls. And then starts kissing her collarbone, and working his way slowly up her neck. “That… is… such… bullshit,” he says, each word punctuated by a kiss.

“You know you feel the same way,” she says. Her voice is not thick with tears. It isn’t.

He moves back, then, his hand going to her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Rey. Don’t try to tell me how I feel.”

“So then why haven’t you introduced me to any of your friends? Why does nobody know that we’re, you know…”

She trails off. Fuck. She did not mean to say that. Because how is she going to end that sentence? _Why does nobody know that we’re occasionally hooking up? Why does nobody know that we’re enemies with benefits?_

There’s no possible ending that doesn’t sound pathetic and needy. There’s no ending that isn’t going to send him running. Which would be a good thing, because she really should end this.

But as much as she’s told herself she shouldn’t want to be with Ben Solo, she’s gotten used to him. He’s a part of her now; he’s in her head whether she wants him there or not. If he leaves, it’s going to hurt. And Rey’s more than a little sick of being left behind.

She looks at him, and he looks back, the expression on his face a little like the first time she kissed him. Surprise slowly giving way to delight.

“You haven’t introduced me to any of your friends, either,” he points out. Totally unreasonably, because that’s completely different.

“That’s completely different,” she tells him. “My friends don’t hate you.”

He raises a single eyebrow.

“OK, Finn kind of hates you,” she admits. She doesn’t understand why he’s grinning.

“You want to be my girlfriend.”

“What?? No. That’s – have you not listened to a word I’m saying?” The nerve of Ben Solo, really. Only an arrogant arse with mush for brains could _possibly_ think –

“I want to be your boyfriend.”

“… what?”

He has the look on his face she’s come to recognize, the one he sometimes has during games. To an outsider, it might look like pure determination. Rey sees the fear underneath.

“I want to introduce you to my friends,” he says. She opens her mouth to argue, but he cuts her off, “I don’t care what they think of you. Of us. If they don’t like you, they’re not really my friends anyway.”

She can feel herself starting to smile, despite herself.

“I want to hold your hand outside, no matter who might be looking,” he continues. “I want to go to those robot fights that you do. I want you to come to my games.”

“I already come to your games,” she admits.

He narrows his eyes. “You said you didn’t,” he says, slowly. “You said you were too busy.”

She can feel herself blushing. “I am busy! Just – I sometimes find time to go to your games anyway.”

His answering grin is blinding.

“I want you to stay,” he says, growing more serious, “Not sneak out early in the morning. When I establish my dominion over the galaxy, I want you to rule by my side.”

“- wait, what?”

He kisses her then, long and deep and wonderful, until her head is spinning.

When he pulls away, he moves just far enough to let her see his face. “So what do you say?”

She studies him for a moment. There are so many reasons to say no to this.

But there are more reasons to say yes.

“OK,” she finally says.

“OK?”

“Yes,” she corrects herself. “Yes, I want to meet your terrible friends.” She ignores his half-hearted noise of protest. “Yes, I want you to come to Robot Battle Wednesday, and I want to come to your games. I want to sleep in in the mornings, and leave together. I want to subvert your dictatorship by undermining your will to rule.” Before he can speak, she quickly adds, “And I want to hold your hand. And I don’t care who sees.”

His response is so enthusiastic that they end up staying in bed for another hour.

And when they do finally make it down to breakfast, they go together, holding hands all the way.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
